


Look No Further

by nieseryjna



Category: White Collar
Genre: Father-Son Relationship, Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-22
Updated: 2013-01-22
Packaged: 2017-11-26 11:05:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/649861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nieseryjna/pseuds/nieseryjna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Neal looks far away for something that's just around the corner.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Look No Further

**Author's Note:**

  * For [noiproksa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/noiproksa/gifts).



> Spoilers: 4x10 "Vested Interest"; knowing White Collar, it will be AU after 4x11 airs.
> 
> Words: ~1500
> 
> A/N: Written for Noiproksa who asked for a Peter & Neal & James story.
> 
> Beta Credit: To great mam711. All remaining errors are mine.
> 
> Disclaimer: White Collar belongs to Jeff Eastin, USA Network and FOX. Just borrowing it for fun. Title from Dido song "Look No Further"

Peter put down his phone with a sigh, a tired sigh.

"Hon? Tell Neal to bring some oranges with him..." El's head poked out of the kitchen; she stopped when she noticed the phone on the table and Peter's thoughtful expression. "Peter?"

"He isn't coming, El. He told me he wants to spend time with his father." There was something in his voice, something that El hadn't heard many times since knowing Peter. It was laced with worry and ... was that jealousy?

Extending her hand towards him and pulling him up, she pulled him into a hug. "I'm sorry, honey; I know Neal means a lot to you, but he needs to understand for himself that he has everything he's looking for right here. You just need to give him time."

"I'm worried it'll be too late." The worry deepened; Peter suspected that James didn't really have good intentions when it came to Neal. All those maneuvers, hiding the truth in the first place, setting the rules about not involving the FBI, not involving Peter.

Peter worried Neal was headed for a disaster in the making, and right now he had no way to stop it.

* * *

_"Because he's my father!" Neal was angry—angry at Peter that he didn't understand._

_"And you think that's enough to trust him? Neal, of all people you should know better..." There was disappointment in his partner's voice, disappointment and something else._

" _It might be my only chance to find out if he really was a bad guy; what if he wasn't? What if he really was a good guy, is good...?" There was desperation in Neal's voice, silently willing Peter to understand. If they could prove James was good, then Neal deep down in his heart could start believing that he was good too._

_"Yeah, and this good guy just happened to con you into believing he was Sam for more than a few weeks." Peter sneered; it was so unlike him that Neal just stopped for a moment to look at him carefully, before speaking again._

_"He was just being careful." Neal answered, with a little less heat, but there was a small voice of doubt in the back of his head. What if Peter was right? What if James had just run a good con to get to the evidence? He shook his head. No, that couldn't be..._

That conversation played in his mind after he overheard James' conversation. He stood hidden behind a tree in Central Park just on the edge of one of the baseball fields, and Mozzie's paranoia and the phone call from Peter had just saved his life. He'd arrived early for another meeting with James: he'd called on short notice, as he had in the last two weeks since Neal had found out Sam was not Sam. It started small: first a spontaneous meet in a nearby bar, close enough to June's to avoid suspicion, then a quick call with "I need your help with something" that was supposed to bring them closer to Ellen's locket. Then the calls just continued—meet me here, or meet there, always in theory in public places but always empty at that time and still within his radius, and of course without the FBI.

"Where is he, Bennett?!" This time there was another man with James, a little bit shorter, but bulkier than him, with a scar on his cheek and nervous hands.

"Calm down, Seamus, my boy will come. I've conditioned him for the past few weeks to show up on request."

Seamus laughed, a screeching noise that hurt the ears. "I have to admit it was a good job with that kid of yours. If we knew he could be swindled, we could have got to him years ago."

"Yeah, well, I didn't want to wait so long, but those damn Marshals hid them too well, and then he ran away and no one could find him." There was a scowl on James' face that made him look more like thug than the man Neal had been meeting for the past few weeks. More like a hardened criminal than a cop searching for proof he was innocent.

"You sure he'll agree to our way, Bennett? ... 'Cos if not..." The smaller man tugged a gun out of his waistband and waved it, making a point.

James' scowl this time was directed at him. "Cut the crap, Flynn; he's a criminal, just like his old man. He'll be happy to get away from the FBI, I'm sure." This time a small smile tugged at his lips—his boy following his father's footsteps. If he were still the same man that he'd been when Neal was born, he would probably have other career plans for his boy. Like being a cop. But now, now he's older and wiser...

That was too much for Neal. If not for Peter and Mozzie, he would have been walking into a trap that he wouldn't be able to talk his way out of. He waited another second to slip away unnoticed, only one thing left on his mind.

* * *

Peter was engrossed in a file that a probie from Organized Crime had just dropped at his home. Two weeks of investigation, two weeks it had taken Organized Crime to collect everything, but finally here was the ultimate proof he needed to convince Neal that his father wasn't who he thought he was. Still, it wouldn't be easy to convince him. He was going over the details again, setting them into the pattern he would need to show Neal, when there was a knock on the door.

"Neal?" He was the last person Peter would have expected on his porch, today anyway. Neal stood unnaturally still, his head bent down, his fingers playing with the brim of the hat he held. "Neal?" The worry in Peter grew; it was always something bad when Neal was so subdued. "What's going on?"

When Neal finally raised his head it wasn't really difficult to see the hurt in his eyes for a split second before the con man's mask slipped on again. "May I come in?" His voice was strained; his throat clenched with emotions.

Peter waved him in, observing worriedly. "Neal? What happened? Is it Mozzie?"

Neal shook his head. He stood uncertainly in the middle of the room.

"June?" Another shake. Then Neal took a step towards the table where the papers Peter had been studying just moments before were laid, and he stopped breathing, before starting to hyperventilate.

Peter pushed him into a chair, quickly going to the kitchen and coming back with a glass of water. "Here, drink. And take a deep breath. Come on, Neal, deep breath ... good." When Neal finally responded, he could finally ask the last question.

"Was it James?" He might have no sympathy for the man, not for what he'd done to Neal, or what he'd done overall. Still, whatever had happened had deeply affected his partner.

Instead of answering, Neal pulled one of the pages from the report towards him. Peter tried to stop him—it wasn't the time for Neal to see it... "I don't think—"

"I already know." Neal finally talked again, the tremor in his voice not masked at all. Here he sat a broken man, with an expression almost the same as when Peter caught him the second time. Complete devastation and disappointment.

"Neal," he started with his most delicate voice. Then, he'd known what to do; then, Neal was just an escaped convict—well, maybe not only; the threads of friendship were already growing. But now, now when he'd treated Neal like a son, he really didn't know how to handle the situation. Oh, how he wished that El were there; she would know perfectly what to say.

"Don't."

So he stopped and sat on the other chair, keeping Neal in his sights, putting the papers back into the folder, slowly pulling the last page from Neal's hands.

"I..." It took another three minutes for Neal to compose himself. "I should have known better. I've made a living out of conning people into trusting me..." He smiled sadly to himself, looking at Peter with big blue eyes full of hurt. "All I wanted was to know my father. To actually know..." He stopped in sudden realization—he wanted to know how it was to actually have a father, but in his mind he was always comparing everything James did to Peter.

"You wanted to know how it was to have a father." The older man had a very good idea what was going on in Neal's mind, at least this time. "And you were disappointed..."

Neal snorted. "I got conned. And I was stupid to believe that James could fill shoes that were already taken." He looked at Peter, unsure of his reaction.

Peter smiled, a warm fuzzy feeling spreading in his chest; he put a hand on Neal's hair and ruffled it.

"So..." Neal started again after a moment of uncomfortable silence; neither men were good at talking about their feelings.

Peter just shook his head and opened the folder again. "I think we have another case to solve."

"Stepping on Ruiz's toes again?" There was mischief in the blue eyes that Peter had been starting to miss.

"Oh, please, he's like a rhino; he won't feel a thing."

**The End**


End file.
